


Reflections

by internetakeover (nymeriahale)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:21:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/internetakeover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of the time Dan takes it for granted, living out what could never have been a teenage dream, but sometimes he looks at Phil - sometimes his YouTube channel, but mainly Phil - and remembers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> I had a minor crisis of confidence on something a bit different that I was working on, and now it looks like I only ever write sleepy fluffy cuddles, oops

‘Hey, Phil, come look at this,’ Dan says, grinning at his computer screen. He huffs when he only gets a low hum in response, turning to back to where Phil had been sitting on his bed reading. He opens his mouth to call Phil’s name again, louder, but freezes. Phil is slumped down against the bedhead, blue pajama trousers and pale chest a splash of light on Dan’s dark bedsheets. His head is lolling to the side, pushing his glasses into the side of his face in a way that looks incredibly uncomfortable, and he’s dropped the book he was reading to his side.

Dan remembers the first time he’d seen Phil in his glasses, answered a Skype call and jolted in surprise. Phil had been in bed then, too, and Dan’s breath had caught in his throat. The sight of Phil in glasses, tucked up in bed, looking so sweet and soft, had left Dan staring. It had been a moment of realisation for him then, a separation of affection for Phil beyond the admiration he had for AmazingPhil in his videos, slight as the distinction had been back then. It hadn’t been anything for Phil, Dan knows, but the informality had hit hard for Dan.

Now this was - could be - an everyday sight, and Phil was lying in Dan’s bed rather than his own, yet it still made Dan’s breath catch. He never could have imagined, back then, that they’d get here. Living in London, living together, making a living from YouTube… any of it aspect of it would have seemed utterly impossible to him, just moving to Manchester had felt like a dream at the time. Most of the time he takes it for granted, living out what could never have been a teenage dream, but sometimes he looks at Phil - sometimes his YouTube channel, but mainly Phil - and remembers.

Dan swallows heavily, dragging his eyes from Phil to put his computer to sleep and turn off the light before heading to the bed. He can hardly bear to look away now that he’s seen it, seen how far he’s come, how far they’ve come, together. He can’t help but compare to the shaky Skype image in his head, blurred by distance and dodgy wifi and now by time. By contrast the Phil in front of him is close and crisp, yet still indescribably soft, bare-chested in cookie monster pajamas in his boyfriend’s bed, hair falling in front of his face where his glasses dig into his skin. By some miracle Dan only trips once on the short journey to the bed, landing heavily next to Phil and wincing as he stirs.

‘Hi,’ Dan smiles softly, pulling his legs onto the bed as Phil’s eyes flutter open.

Phil smiles, too, reaching out to brush a thumb against Dan’s jawline. ‘Hi, you,’ he mumbles. ‘Ready for sleep?’ he asks through a yawn.

‘Yeah,’ Dan nods, reaching out to remove Phil’s glasses, tucking his hair back into place. ‘Love you,’ he reminds Phil gently, not wanting to wake him up too much with overwhelming sap when he’s clearly sleepy.

Phil smiles, slowly, and Dan finds himself mimicking the impression, something lifting in his chest at the fondness clear in Phil’s expression. He could never have imagined this. Could never in a million years have thought of the details of Phil’s stubble, left to grow in as they haven’t left the house in two days, the little red spot where his glasses had dug into his cheeks, the annoyed huff he lets out as he realises he’ll have to move to get under the covers. Those details, the imperfections invisible five years ago, complete the image as Dan could never have imagined.

Dan’s pulled from his contemplation as Phil tugs pointedly on the duvet trapped beneath him, rolls his eyes but obligingly moves to join him under the covers, depositing Phil’s book and glasses on the nightstand.

‘Love you too, by the way,’ Phil mutters, voice almost inaudible where it’s muffled in the covers trapped close to his chest.

‘Thanks, I was starting to wonder,’ Dan replies sarcastically, turning his head into the pillow to hide his decidedly less sarcastic smile. He lies there grinning for a second, basking in the warmth they’ve generated between them. Then Phil reaches out to snake a warm arm around his waist, nails scratching lightly across his back, and just lying there isn’t enough. He leans forward, only a little, brushes his lips across Phil’s forehead and cheeks in turn, feeling the smile grow on Phil’s face as he does so.

‘Love you _so much_ ,’ he whispers, trying to put everything he’s feeling into the words, pulling back to look at his favourite smile, a matured version of the shy, delighted grin that had graced Phil’s face after their very first kiss. There’s far less shyness now, more fondness, but Dan can get it back there if he tries hard enough. He doesn’t feel like it now though, instead leaning forward to catch Phil’s lips in a desperately tender kiss.

Phil sighs as Dan pulls back, shifting forward into the space he had vacated. ‘What was that for?’ he mumbles, still sounding half asleep.

‘You look cute with your glasses on, and I love you,’ Dan replies simply, kissing his nose because it’s there. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘’Kay,’ Phil concedes after a pause, tangling their legs together as he curls up a little, ducking his head down and pressing a kiss onto Dan’s bare shoulder. ‘Love you too,’ he repeats, voice now muffled into Dan’s chest rather than the covers.

Dan lowers his head to press his smile into Phil’s hair, curling up around him the little that he can. They’d slept in the same position, mirrored, on the very first night they’d spent together. Dan had been small enough to manage it then, knees tucked up tight and resting atop Phil’s thighs with his face buried in Phil’s chest, entirely surrounded by Phil’s body and his room and his house. They’re in Dan’s room tonight, but it’s not the same, not really.

It’s his computer on the desk but Phil’s book on the nightstand, his piano against the wall and the wardrobe they’d built together settled next to it. It’s his cereal in the kitchen and Phil’s coffee, their million subscriber plaques and their golden headphones in the lounge. It’s different, complete, _merged_ , in a way Dan could never have visualised. He can’t wait to see what another five years might bring.


End file.
